


Fireside Stolen Glances

by PictureStories



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PictureStories/pseuds/PictureStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowstorm, fireside, reading, stolen glances</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireside Stolen Glances

**Author's Note:**

> In response to the 2015 Rumbelle Secret Santa, a short work of fluff.

Frigid, relentless rain assaulted the windowpane obscuring Belle’s view and heralding the coming snows. Damp wisps of air slipped past the crooked window sash biting at her fingertips. The castle echoed with its howls. A few feet away, in his usual leather winged-back chair Rumplestiltskin sat, ankles crossed by the large fire. His boney fingers drummed idly across the cover of a well-worn black leather book; his golden eyes mere slits of reflected flames as he impatiently scanned the dogeared pages for a scrap of information. Belle supposed, as usual, that he was barely aware of her presence in the large hall with his nose buried so deep in his book; it’s why she felt so confident in her lazy observation of him. Today had been a good day, all in all. Rumplestiltskin had made some very advantageous deals with their various visitors, obtaining some new piece of art for the hall and a magical cape of invisibility. Like a small child, he’d gushed to Belle about the cape’s wizarding history while he stowed it away for later use. Belle loved to hear of it. Every prize had a story behind it and the ones he chose to share with her were always extremely fascinating. Of course, Rumplestiltskin did not always divulge the history of his acquired objects but it did seem, to Belle, that he was increasingly confiding more and more with her as time marched slowly by. Belle daydreamed a few more moments in silence before his voice registered clearly in her ear. 

Turning languidly towards the sound, Belle realized Rumplestiltskin was no longer parked comfortably in his chair, but was now hovering directly at her side, his breath ghosting past her ear while his left hand cupped her elbow with a feather light touch. He was saying something but Belle didn’t hear him. Fighting the dull ache behind her eyes she stared directly at the imp’s thin, mottled lips, but his words didn’t reach her ears. A crease of brow and firmer hand was all she registered before he led her away from the stone window seat towards the large fur rug beside the fireplace. Squatting down beside her, he magicked a tiny brown flask and silver spoon into his palm, opened it and began to pry the bubbly liquid between her lips. She swallowed with mute obedience and brought her mind to wrap around what he was saying to her; something about a fever and her damnable habit of reading in window seats. 

The bubbling liquid wormed its way through her body, warming her from scalp to toe. Folding his legs criss-cross-applesauce on the rug beside her, he proceeded to read aloud from his spell book while warm waves of magic rocked gently through her small form. Cradled in the soft fur with the warmth of the fire, Belle began blinking tiredly at him as she felt exhaustion claim her. Like a sentinel at the city gates he sat erect and emotionless at her side, eyes fixed on the pages in front of him; but as he read, his knee brushed her forearm lightly. On the cusp of unconsciousness Belle felt a cool, dry hand brush across her forehead and down her left cheek. 

“Belle fleur,” he choked softly. 

Assembling every scrap of conscious thought and drowsy strength, she turned and nuzzled ever-so-slightly into his touch and fell asleep.  
Rumplestiltskin gasped in hesitant surprise. The young thing was obviously dreaming and still he puzzled over her foreign response for an hour while her soft cheek slept gently in the palm of his relaxed hand. After a while she turned fully towards him, curling up into the crook of his side. He immediately magicked a soft woolen blanket around her little frame. With trembling fingers he tucked a corner over the slope of her left shoulder, brushing back a tendril of glossy brown hair from her face as his hand retreated. 

Outside the rain transformed from sleek to snow and the torrid of tapping became gentle thuds. The wind continued to howl and race about the castle’s empty rooms but Rumplestiltskin only had ears for the small, steady breaths he was counting beside him. So, engrossed was he with his simple task, that he failed to sense the approaching guest until they were almost upon the very stoop. But, it took only a blink, for the Dark One to appear in a dramatic puff of purple dust. 

The deal was swift and simple but disruptive enough to wake the dreary girl before Rumplestiltskin could return to his pleasant seat and task. Instead, he crossed over to his well-worn spinning wheel and plucked a pinch of new straw to begin. Belle stretched out like a cat on the plush rug before the fire and searched the room around her for signs of him. When she spotted him in his familiar occupation she crossed over to where he was, scooping up the book from the floor beside her and settling down into a hard wooden chair nearby. Turning the book over she opened it to the page he’d left open and began to read aloud to him. 

“You should lie down,” he said quietly without raising his head. Belle paused midsentence for only a moment and then continued. 

After a while she began to struggle with magical pronunciation of various potions; her brow drawing together in little frowns of concentration as she stumbled over the lists of complicated ingredients. Rumplestiltskin studied her curious expressions; her fervent attempts pulling small smiles from the corners of his mouth. After a few moments more he stood up, stepped over to her commandingly and reached out to help her stand. Once he had her firmly in hand, he led her back to the fire where a second winged-back chair had mysteriously joined the first one. Guiding her to the second chair he tucked the woolen blanket awkwardly around her lap, then returned to his own chair and continued to read aloud where she’d left off before. Content and comfortable they spent the rest of the blustery, snowy night and a good portion of the next day stealing shy glances of each other in front of the fire behind a variety of books on magic, fiction, histories and even occasionally a fairy tale or two.


End file.
